


Sun

by Scarlet



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Character Study, Consensual Underage Sex, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Fixing Kalicia, Trauma, honour killing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet/pseuds/Scarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chicago. A hotel room. Alicia. Kalinda. Naked. In more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Huis Clos](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5368328) and _[Graveyard Shifts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5146724)_.

 

 

The hotel room is bathed in the salmon light of the setting sun when Kalinda wakes up. She blinks at the half-closed ivory curtains in her field of vision as full consciousness seeps in and threads of awareness weave together into here and now. There are soft snoring sounds behind her and she turns in the bed to look at Alicia, who is lying on her stomach with a fist curled by her jaw, her mouth slack, fast asleep. Kalinda’s fingers tingle with the urge to trace the bracket-like line on Alicia’s willful chin but she doesn’t want to wake her.

Kalinda wants to run. Kalinda wants to stay. The bed sheets smell like them, smell like sex. She slips a hand under the sheets, over her stomach and between her legs, nerve endings flaring and making her hips roll, not so much because of her touch as because of the memories of what went on before they both drifted into an exhausted, satiated sleep. Kalinda wants to convince herself that what happened between them today was just about sex. A one-time thing. Several years’ worth of denial simply reaching its inevitable conclusion. One day, no repercussions. But she can’t.

_It will hurt when you go._

_What doesn’t?_

~~~

Alicia had finally given up on her intention to drink every single bottle from their minibar and called room service to order them pizza.

“You’re not leaving just yet, are you?” she’d asked Kalinda before placing the call.

Kalinda had shaken her head. She’d felt too emotionally drained to go anywhere, and the way Alicia was looking at her, with a naked hunger she no longer tried to hide, was too powerful to fight.

“Good.” Alicia had then disappeared in the bathroom to take a shower and re-emerged half an hour later, wearing a white hotel bathrobe, matching the one Kalinda was wearing, her face scrubbed free of makeup, her damp hair slicked back with just a hint of curls at her shoulders. Kalinda had swallowed at the sight. Alicia had held her eyes and smiled.

_She knows._

And what made it worse, Kalinda knew too. Ever since their fallout, she’d endeavored to maintain a careful distance between her heart and Alicia. She’d never really understood what had attracted her to the lawyer in the first place. Donna had been right, she was so not her type. Alicia and her cold, straight-laced beauty, her Highland Park arrogance. But there had been a spark in the woman’s eyes, a not-quite-tamed rebellious streak as well as a genuine warmth in her smile that Kalinda had felt inexorably drawn to. She’d never bothered to analyze the nature of this attraction either. It was just... there. Something that simply existed in her world, like the car keys in her pocket or the notebooks in her hand. And besides, she’d never had any intention to act upon it. Alicia was straight, for one -- had a big crush on Will, and with Peter... well, it would have been too messy a situation to consider. She liked Alicia, enjoyed her company, valued her friendship, and it had been enough. Even if some nights... some nights, when too many tequila shots crumbled her walls, when Alicia’s slender fingers had accidentally grazed her wrist down at the bar, when she’d leant a little too close, her expensive perfume warm like a breath, Kalinda would go home and let her hands roam, her mind drift, and imagine what it would be like to touch her.

In the morning she would dismiss her cravings as mere alcohol-fuelled fantasies, products of a basic need for human connection that had little to do with Alicia herself.

Until the day she found herself in the Lockhart/Gardner elevator, struggling to swallow the hurt that tore at her chest like a wild, frenzied beast, the magnitude of her grief telling her in no uncertain terms how much Alicia had meant to her.

And this past day had brought all the bewildering feelings she ever had for this woman to the surface, like foam on turbulent eddies. It made her feel terribly exposed, fragile and she hated it. 

The waiter came and took their breakfast tray with him. He was a tall, slim, polite white male in his late forties who made a point not to stare at them, but Kalinda still caught the flash of interest in his eyes as he walked by, under the layers of affected neutral professionalism. Kalinda was reminded that what they were doing was nothing but safe and could have major consequences for Alicia if the man had recognized her. The First Lady of Illinois. In a hotel room. With a woman. Their clothes and underwear piled up on an armchair. An unmade bed.

She told Alicia as much, as her friend -- her whatever-she-was-now settled on the mattress next to her, carrying the tray holding their plates and two bottles of water.

“I don’t care,” Alicia said, setting the tray between them on the bed.

“Maybe not right now, but you will later, if this comes out.”

“What can they do to me that they haven’t done already?” Alicia shrugged.

“This could hurt Peter’s political ambitions.”

Alicia turned her head to look at her. “Since when do you care about my husband’s career?” Her voice had remained level enough, but Kalinda still heard the weight of their baggage scraping on the tail end of her words.

“I don’t. But you obviously do, or you wouldn’t still be with him.”

Alicia huffed. “I stayed for my children.”

“Who are pretty much grown up now.” Kalinda suspected that Zach and Grace’s well-being wasn’t the only reason. Peter’s status being useful to further Alicia’s own ambitions probably was another. Alicia would hate to admit it, but she’d become a shrewd social climber. A Diane-in-the-making.

“Are you saying I should divorce him?”

“I’m not saying anything, Alicia. This is your life.”

Alicia nodded sharply. “It sure is. And right now my life is all about pizza,” she said lifting their plates’ silver lids with a flourish and pointing at their contents, inviting Kalinda to take a piece.

Kalinda ignored her. “I’m serious, Alicia. This won’t look good on your First Lady’s resume. The governor’s wife, having sex with a woman? A woman like...” Kalinda gestured at herself with a graceful swipe of her hand “... me?”

Alicia knitted her brow. “Like you?”

“Not Caucasian,” Kalinda clarified with a little smile and a head tilt.

“This is ridiculous,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes.

“I know, but don’t think for a moment the media will hesitate playing that card.”

“What? You being Indian will trump the fact that I’m gay?”

“You’re not gay.”

“Bi, whatever, you know what I mean,” Alicia said, sweeping her hair to the side.

“I do, and yes. Welcome to America.”

“Okay, Kalinda, I get it. You. Me. Danger. And I’ll no doubt worry about it when -- if the time comes, but as you said, not now. I just want to have this one day where I can allow myself to do what I want, with whom I want. Is that too much to ask?” Alicia shifted on the bed, leaning closer. “And I don’t care what color you are,” she said, her hand coming up to pull at the lapel of Kalinda’s bathrobe, exposing her cleavage while gracing her with an impish smile. “Except maybe here,” she added, sliding her fingers underneath the fabric to cup her breast.

Kalinda felt her nipple perk up under Alicia’s exploring touch. “Stop it,” she breathed.

“Why?” Alicia frowned, pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry. Did that sound racist? Because I didn’t mean it that w --”

“Alicia, it’s fine,” Kalinda cut her off. ”But keep this up and your pizza’s gonna get cold,” she added with quick smile, butterflies knocking their wings in her stomach at Alicia’s eagerness.

“Oh, right.” Alicia leaned back against the pillows. “Good. Because I really...” Kalinda side-eyed her and Alicia chuckled. “Okay. I’ll shut up now,” she said, picking up a pizza slice.

Kalinda helped herself to a slice as well. Alicia found the remote in the bedside table’s drawer and switched the wall TV on while she chewed, flicking the channels until she found the news. They ate quietly for a while and Kalinda eventually began to relax. Maybe the past months had left her a little too paranoid. Once she was done eating, she wiped her fingers on a paper napkin as they watched a report on yet another financial scandal. She recognized a few faces, current and former clients from the firm. There was a shot of the courthouse and Cary appeared on screen, making an official statement.

Alicia dropped her pizza crust on the plate. “God, he looks exhausted,” she remarked.

“He must have been working late on that one,” Kalinda said, because saying anything was better than acknowledging the pang of guilt she felt at the way she left him. Goodbyes were another thing she wasn’t good at.

“On top of everything else weighing on his mind,” Alicia said, shooting her a pointed look.

Kalinda drank from her Evian bottle and said nothing.

“Did you tell Lana you were leaving?”

“No.”

“Too messy?”

“Yeah.” Kalinda screwed the cap back on and left the bottle on the bedside table.

Alicia switched the TV off, took their tray and left it on the floor by the side of the bed. She edged closer to Kalinda, lifting a hand to stroke the contours of her face.

“Did you love them?”

Kalinda closed her eyes, leaning into Alicia’s touch. “I liked being with them.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Huh.”

Alicia’s fingers drummed her jaw. “Come on, Kalinda, haven’t I earned a little honesty here?”

Kalinda opened her eyes and sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

“But they wanted you to. I know Cary certainly did. That boy has had his eyes on you since the moment he met you. And Lana was... territorial, to say the least.” Alicia’s fingertips traced the curves of Kalinda’s lips, and Kalinda let them part slightly, feeling Alicia’s thumb slip in. Since Alicia hadn’t made it a question, she didn’t say anything, opting instead to press the tip of her tongue against Alicia’s thumb, trying to distract her. “Why didn’t you?” Alicia asked, her voice low, moving her wet thumb down the column of Kalinda’s throat.

Alicia was like a dog with a bone, trying to get to her marrow, and Kalinda didn’t care for the scrutiny one bit. So she threaded hard fingers through Alicia’s hair and crushed their lips together, hoping this would be enough of an answer.

_They weren’t you._

Alicia rolled on top of her, deepening the kiss and sucking on her tongue with little aroused noises while tugging at Kalinda’s bathrobe belt. Kalinda’s hips surged up and Alicia broke the kiss, breathless. She sat up astride Kalinda, looking down at her, irises fluctuating like green opals, as she opened Kalinda’s robe.

Alicia ran a finger from Kalinda’s throat down to her navel. “I don’t know what to feel about you,” she confessed.

“That’s okay,” Kalinda murmured, untying Alicia’s own belt and pushing the robe off her shoulders, fascinated once more by the rosebud tips of her breasts, the milk of her skin.

“No, it’s not. I didn’t know how I felt about Will either.” She stroked her hands down across Kalinda’s ribs, followed the curves of her narrow waist. “I told Owen once I had been in love with the idea of being in love, but the truth is, I didn’t know.”

“Will loved you", Kalinda said, running her hands up Alicia’s thighs. This she knew.

Alicia shook her head. “But he never told me. Okay, he did once, but it wasn’t... he was on the phone... and he didn’t mean... never mind. Maybe... maybe if I had been sure that he did, I would have let myself love him back.”

Kalinda raised herself to sit up, crossing her ankles behind Alicia and trailing a line of kisses along the hard ridge of her shoulder. “I don’t think it works like that,” she said, distracted by the feel of Alicia’s warm stomach pressed against her own.

Alicia let her fingers play at the nape of Kalinda’s neck. “I think it does for me.” She sighed. “But maybe you’re right.” She’d found one of the bobby pins holding Kalinda’s hair up and was pulling it off gently. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Alicia said, toying with a second pin.

Kalinda bit her lip but said nothing. Alicia, encouraged by her silence, took the pins out one by one until her hair came tumbling down.

Alicia smiled fondly. “Hi,” she whispered, taking a thick black curl between two fingers and pulling it down over Kalinda’s shoulder.

Kalinda dropped her gaze, the tenderness in Alicia’s voice more than she could bear.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t let many people do this?” Alicia asked, her voice quiet like a morning prayer.

Kalinda remained silent and waited, eyes set on the small cluster of dark pins Alicia had dropped on the white sheets beside them.

Alicia’s hands combed through her hair, slim fingers mapping the shape of her skull. _Here it comes_ , Kalinda thought, bracing herself not to flinch.

Alicia’s eyes widened as her fingertips found the raised, jagged scar at the back of Kalinda’s head. “What...”

Kalinda reached up and pulled Alicia’s hands gently away. She gathered her hair pins, leaned sideways to leave them on the bedside table. “It’s nothing.”

“Kalinda. What happened to you?” Alicia asked firmly, lifting her chin with her index finger. Lana had asked the same question a couple of months ago, and Kalinda had lied then, made up a motorbike accident. A former boyfriend. Riding drunk without a helmet. She was about to serve Alicia the same story, but as she opened her mouth to speak, realized the words wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t bring herself to stain what was in the process of being fixed between them with yet another lie.

“Bad things?” Kalinda offered instead, feeling the warmth leave her body.

Alicia’s hands went to grip her shoulders. “Bad things? What bad things?” Her eyes narrowed, glinting like steel. “Did Nick do this to you?” Had the moment not been so serious, Kalinda would have laughed at her Mama Bear protectiveness.

Kalinda shook her head. “No.” She took a deep breath in. “Please... Alicia, I can’t talk about it.”

“Have you talked to anyone about it?”

“What? You mean like a shrink? No,” Kalinda replied, knowing full well this wasn’t what Alicia was really asking.

_Am I the only one who knows this much about you?_

_Yes._

Alicia held her eyes and Kalinda felt a sudden, irrational fear that the lawyer was able to read her like an open book, could see everything, know everything. There was a twitch in her right leg as her body geared up for flight, but just then, Alicia nodded. “Can’t say I blame you. My mother insisted I see one after the whole thing with Peter, even made an appointment. We had _words_.” She paused briefly. “I never went, but I had my children, my family. Who did you have?”

Kalinda stared at the wall over Alicia’s shoulder. “I had Nick. He... helped.”

Alicia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Nick? Your potentially dangerous husband, Nick, helped you?”

“Yeah.” And it was because Nick had been dangerous that she was still alive.

_The taste of blood in her mouth. The back of a red double-decker bus blurry in her field of vision. Nick’s blue cotton shirt wrapped around her sticky head as he drove them like a lunatic to the nearest hospital, the thugs he called his mates nervously smoking weed in the back seat. The click of guns’ safety being switched back on._

Kalinda pushed against Alicia’s shoulders, silently conveying she needed space.

Alicia moved back, closing her robe and kneeling on the far end of the bed as Kalinda leant her back against the headboard, bringing her knees up to rest her cheek against them, her head spinning with images of a past she’d spent most of her adult life trying to forget.

“Is this why you didn’t like it when I held your wrists before?” Alicia asked cautiously.

Kalinda caught her eyes under the veil of her hair. “I wasn’t raped, Alicia, if that’s what you think.”

Alicia’s hands flitted up. “Forgive me for imagining the worst.”

_But it had been the worst. They made her watch. They held her by the wrists and made her watch all of it. “Look at her, you dirty dyke, fucking look at her.” Her brother’s sour breath hot in her ear, the concrete floor of the derelict warehouse scraping her knees._

Kalinda dug her palms into her eyes, forcing the painful memories away. They didn’t belong to her. They were Leela’s and Leela was gone. Kalinda had no past; she was a blank slate, anything written easily erased. She heard the rustle of sheets, felt Alicia rest a hesitant hand on her foot. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“It has nothing to do with you,” Kalinda rasped.

“I know. But I don’t want today to be about... bad things. Whatever they are.”

_Oh, Alicia._

Kalinda collected herself. “Then kiss me,” she simply said.

And Alicia did, her lips so soft and gentle Kalinda thought she might cry. And maybe she did, maybe Alicia tasted the salt of her tears on her skin, but she didn’t stop, didn’t comment. She pulled Kalinda into her arms, peeled their robes away and laid her down onto the bed, polishing her body with long soothing strokes, lips hot on her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her...

“Alicia?”

A wet kiss on the sharp edge of her pelvic bone. “Shhh... let me do this.”

Kalinda raised herself on her elbows. “Are you sure?”

Alicia lifted her head, looking so incredibly young without her make-up. _This is the Alicia Will fell for in Georgetown_ , Kalinda thought.

_William, you never stood a chance._

Alicia grinned. “The way I see it, less performance anxiety if I go first,” she said, planting a feather-light kiss on the neat triangle of black hair Kalinda insisted on keeping -- because she was a woman, not a girl, and women came like this.

Kalinda’s head hit the pillow as Alicia spread her legs.

The first touch of Alicia’s lips on her labia was electric. Kalinda whimpered and Alicia, emboldened by the sound, opened her mouth wider and pushed her tongue inside her, both hands flat against her thighs. Kalinda’s hips bucked and she gasped sharply as Alicia tasted her.

“How am I doing?” Alicia asked, looking up, lips glistening, eyes like summer fires.

“You talk too much,” Kalinda growled, neck arching against the pillows, fingers clenching on Alicia’s shoulders. Alicia chuckled, nipped at the thin skin of her inner thigh, then thrust her tongue back in. Alicia’s strokes were tentative, unschooled, but it didn’t matter. Kalinda’s fists crumpled the bed sheets, sob-like sighs breaking past her lips.

Alicia smiled against her, then pulled her tongue back and slid it up along her folds until she found her clit. Her lips closed around it, tongue soft on its point. Kalinda parted her legs wider, heels digging into the mattress, feeling herself grow hard within the confine of Alicia’s lips. What on earth was she... Alicia pressed both hands on each side of her and Kalinda moaned when she caught up with what was happening. Alicia was using what she knew of sex. Sex with men. And, what this felt like, what it must have felt like, had Kalinda been a man... Alicia was giving her a... yeah, there was no other way to describe what she was doing to her, and God, Alicia may not have known what she was doing before but this was... so... no wonder Peter... lucky bastard. Then Alicia’s teeth grazed her just as her thumb teased her opening before pushing in, and Kalinda cried out, spine curving up under the onslaught of pleasure. It usually took her much longer to come -- maybe it was because she’d been wound up so tightly, or maybe it was because the reality of Alicia’s head moving between her thighs was so much more potent than her tequila-induced fantasies -- but white heat exploded from her belly to her fingertips as she writhed on the bed like a live wire, the hotel room fuzzing out around her, echoes of sounds she didn’t usually make vanishing in her ears.

Alicia slid back up, her body solid and warm against her side. She brushed away wisps of damp hair that clung to Kalinda’s lips, kissed her cheek and pulled the bed sheets over them. Kalinda turned to curl up within her arms, holding Alicia’s head to her chest, her breath still shallow. Alicia nuzzled the underside of her jaw, caressing her back with lazy hands. “I made you come,” she whispered, smiling against her neck.

Kalinda laughed softly. “Yeah, you get a gold star.”

“Hmmm... just one?” Alicia purred, licking the point of Kalinda’s chin.

“It’s a big one,” Kalinda replied, stroking her hair.

“I like making you come,” Alicia breathed next to her ear.

Kalinda’s heart stuttered and pinched. _You know you shouldn’t fall for her_ , she thought as Alicia rested her cheek against her shoulder with a satisfied sigh.

_But you are._


	2. Chapter 2

If Kalinda were to be truly honest with herself she would admit that she had started falling a long time ago. Alicia had chipped away at Kalinda's defenses ever since those long nights spent studying cases, sitting across from each other in Lockhart/Gardner’s conference rooms. Watching Alicia work, the way her brilliant mind built and deconstructed arguments, had been the greatest turn-on. Kalinda had recognized a peer in Alicia, someone whose brain matched her own. Because of the way she looked, the clothes she wore, and her lack of Ivy league degree, people tended to underestimate Kalinda’s intelligence. She would witness this every time she came up with a clever solution to their problems, that moment when she read the surprise in their eyes, the perplexity quickly dismissed and hidden beneath their polite smiles. She cultivated their ignorance of her abilities, hiding in plain sight. It wasn’t hard; most lawyers and a good portion of the clients she worked for came with the superiority complex of the wealthy. It allowed Kalinda not to be seen as a threat. Stealth was paramount to her efficiency. In the legal world, she was a grunt who got the job done and it suited her just fine. Before Alicia joined the firm, only Will and, to a certain extent, Diane had been aware that Kalinda’s intellect rivaled their own.

Alicia had quickly picked up on this while they worked and the few times, right at the beginning, when Kalinda tried... not to play dumb exactly, but asked Alicia for clarifications on things she didn’t really need explaining, had earned her an arch raised eyebrow and a drop-the-bullshit smirk. This was when Kalinda had begun to really like her. She could easily follow whatever Alicia threw at her; the lawyer’s reasoning, her logic didn’t need spelling out when they were together, and Kalinda could see that Alicia got a big kick out of that. Their relationship had been built on mutual respect, admiration for each other’s intellect before anything else.

And then there’d been the Carter Wright appeal. Alicia’s voice breaking with passionate humanity. _It has to be right. To do this to a man, it has to be right._

Kalinda had left quickly after that, the nervous tap of her heel firecracker-sharp in the elevator. It was just the case taking its emotional toll, she’d lied to herself. She’d gone to Brando’s, knocked back four tequila shots in a row before the pretty blonde waitress’ gaze had caught her eyes. Kalinda had plastered her most seductive smile on. There was no way she was going to spend the night alone. If her heart insisted on drumming inside her chest like this, then she would give it a good reason to.

The girl was sweet and tasted like citrus and bubblegum. Kalinda was glad she was blonde and tanned, so her brain wouldn’t try and play tricks on her. She made sure the lights stayed on and kept her eyes opened the whole time.

~~

“Hey,” Alicia said, raising her head to look at her, “you’re not falling asleep on me are you?”

Kalinda smiled. “No.”

“You seem miles away.”

“I was remembering when we worked together,” Kalinda said running her fingers up Alicia’s spine.

“Oh?”

“We were a good team.”

Alicia dropped her head back onto her shoulder. “We were.” She stayed quiet for a while. Then: “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything... for the way things went between us. For what I put you through. ”

Kalinda looked up at the ceiling. “Your anger was legitimate.”

Alicia snorted. “You talk like a lawyer.”

“Occupational hazard.”

Silence stretched between them. Neither of them were big talkers, and yet, since they met in the cemetery, Alicia had been surprisingly forthcoming. Kalinda wasn’t sure how to deal with an Alicia who wanted to talk, even less with an Alicia who wanted to talk about what went wrong between them.

“I was jealous,” Alicia eventually said.

“It’s normal.” Kalinda said, as neutrally as she could.

Alicia pushed herself up on one elbow to meet her eyes and Kalinda saw the hesitation there, the shy discomfort. “Except it wasn’t... normal. I mean yes, I was jealous because Peter was -- is -- my husband but, also... I think... maybe... ” She stopped, shook her head. “I don’t even know how to explain it...”

Kalinda stroked the length of her arm. “Alicia, we don’t have to talk about this. We’re here, we’re okay now, it’s all that matters.”

“Kalinda, not talking is what killed _us_ ," Alicia said, looking down at her. “This was the deal, remember? Why we came here in the first place? To be honest with each other?”

Kalinda dragged her nails along Alicia’s thigh. “I thought we came here to have great sex.”

Alicia caught her hand, brought it to her lips. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not gonna work,” she said, planting a quick kiss on her knuckles.

“Wanna bet?” Kalinda grinned, retrieving her hand and sliding it between them to cup one of Alicia’s breasts.

Alicia batted her hand away. “Will you please let me finish?”

Kalinda sighed, raised herself against the pillows. “Fine. Knock yourself out.” Just because Alicia wanted to talk didn’t mean she had to.

Alicia moved up as well, but remained on her side. “What I was gonna say was... I wasn’t just jealous of you, Kalinda. I was jealous of Peter too.”

Kalinda’s head whipped round. “Huh?”

“I mean... I didn’t know it then, I thought it hurt the way it did because I felt betrayed, because I hated that suddenly you’d become one of his...”

“Whores?”

“Women,” Alicia countered with a mild glare, then slumped. “But... yeah,” she admitted. “But also, I think... I think, deep down, what bothered me the most is that he knew you in a way I didn’t,” she finished, the words pushing past her lips in a rush.

Kalinda shook her head. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No. You’re rewriting history, Alicia.”

“How come?”

“Because back then, you only had eyes for Will. You and I were just friends, nothing more.”

“I’m not saying it was something I was conscious of at the time. But after today... I don’t know... it would explain why I stayed mad at you for so long.” Alicia ran a thoughtful finger over the curve of Kalinda’s shoulder. “Peter cheating on me wasn’t news, but you cheating on me was.”

Kalinda opened her mouth to protest, but Alicia’s hand shot up. “I know, I know. You didn’t even know me when it happened, but that’s what it felt like the day I found out.”

Kalinda turned her head to look towards the window, not knowing what to make of any of this.

She felt Alicia’s fingertips glide down her arm. “Can I ask you something?”

 _No._ “Sure.” Kalinda kept staring at the sky outside. Patches of blue had begun to appear amidst the clouds.

“Why did you? Sleep with Peter?”

Kalinda drew the sheet higher over her chest. “He had something I needed.”

“Which was?”

“My name.”

“Your name?” Alicia thought about this, then snapped her fingers. “Of course. You were registered as Leela when you worked at the S.A.’s office. Peter helped you become Kalinda? This is how you changed the life you once told me you didn’t like. Is that it?”

Kalinda flinched in surprise. “Wait. How do you know this?”

“About Leela? Andrew Wiley told me.”

Kalinda winced. “So, Wiley did find out in the end...”

“Not exactly. He told me there were rumors Peter had slept with one of his co-workers and that her name was Leela. But he said he couldn’t find her because she didn’t seem to exist. He asked if I knew who she was.”

“Did you tell him?” Kalinda asked with trepidation before realizing that at this point, it no longer mattered.

Alicia shook her head. “No. I was too shocked. Blake had called you that name enough times for me to put two and two together.”

Kalinda released a long breath. “So this is how you found out,” she murmured, staring down at her hands.

“This is how I found out,” Alicia confirmed in a toneless voice. “The night Peter won the State’s Attorney race. I had a glass of champagne in my hand... and then... I can’t even remember how I got home.”

“Alicia...” After all this time, there was still something raw, not really healed edging her words that made Kalinda’s stomach churn.

Alicia caught her fidgety hands. “I know. You’re sorry. And you should be. But it’s done, and I’m trying to move on. I really am,” she said, squeezing her fingers, then leaning back against her pillow.

They didn’t say anything for a long time. This event had been the linchpin for everything that happened between them afterwards, and it dawned on Kalinda that maybe Alicia wasn’t trying to make her feel bad or guilty. Maybe she was simply letting her in, allowing her to share the pain she’d experienced in that moment.

“So, my husband helped you change your name?” Alicia asked after a while.

“Yeah,” Kalinda replied weakly.

“And that was the price he asked of you,” Alicia continued, voice laced with disgust.

“No!” Kalinda looked up earnestly. “He didn’t ask for anything. It just... happened.”

“What? That was your way of thanking him?” Alicia sounded more curious than upset, although the underlying strain in her tone was telling Kalinda it was touch and go.

“I guess...”

“When I’m grateful I send people a gift basket.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Kalinda said with grim sarcasm.

“Peter told me you were not to blame. Why would he say that?”

Kalinda caught her eyes. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t his fault,” she insisted.

“He was married. It was his fault,” Alicia said bitterly.

“People fuck up, Alicia.”

Alicia shook her head. “I know they do, but my husband fucked up eighteen -- nineteen times, that I know of.” She brought her hand up to stroke Kalinda’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “You I can forgive. Him... it’s harder.”

Kalinda lowered her lashes, “Are you...?” she began, but her throat got too tight for her to finish.

Alicia didn’t need to hear the rest, though. “I’m getting there,” she said, leaning forward to kiss her slowly. “I think I’m done talking now,” she whispered, sneaking a hand under the sheets to pull Kalinda to her.

They slid back down onto the bed, their kisses quickly growing in intensity, and there was a fierceness to them that hadn’t been there before. Kalinda molded her body to Alicia’s, their legs tangling up, and they both gasped at the sensation when their nipples brushed against each other.

Kalinda let the hand that had been gripping Alicia’s upper arm glide over the side of Alicia’s breast and past her waist until she reached her thigh. She pulled Alicia’s leg over her own hip, bending it at the knee, and slipped one hand down the curve of her ass and between her legs. She was already wet.

Alicia inhaled sharply, uttered an adorable breathy “oh...”

“Someone’s turned on,” Kalinda whispered, with a playful nip on the ridge of Alicia’s nose, her fingers delving further in.

“I’ve been... like this... since I had my mouth on you,” Alicia panted against her lips, her lower body undulating under Kalinda’s precise touch.

Their kisses became more urgent, open-mouthed and heated, and Kalinda’s fingers became more active between Alicia’s legs until she felt the slightest push down on her shoulders. Her fingers stilled and she pulled back to lift an eyebrow at Alicia.

“Would you...” Alicia started to say, dropping her gaze, a deep blush creeping up from her chest to her cheeks.

Kalinda grinned. “I would. ” After one last sweet kiss, a it’s-gonna-be-okay kiss, an I’m-gonna-make-you-feel-so-good kiss, she began moving down along Alicia’s body. She took her time, dragging her lips down Alicia’s neck, stopping to suck at her breasts, listening to Alicia’s breath catch, loving the way her chest rose and fell faster. Kalinda slid lower to thoroughly explore the dip of Alicia’s navel with her tongue, figuring it would give Alicia plenty of time to change her mind but all Alicia did was start keening above her, nails digging into her back. Kalinda then took hold of Alicia’s hips, scooted down on her back and made Alicia straddle her, with her knees framing the side of her head.

Alicia looked down, eyes wide and fever-bright. “Oh God,” she said, legs trembling beneath Kalinda’s hands. Kalinda did not leave her time to panic; she closed both hands on Alicia’s ass and pulled her down.

Alicia yelped, her hands shooting forward to grip the headboard.

She tasted like the sea, like waves in the storm, like shipwrecks and safe harbors.

_My Albatross._

Kalinda used her lips, her tongue, her fingers, the scrape of her teeth -- bringing Alicia to the edge then slowing back down over and over again, until Alicia was sobbing her need above her, body slick with sweat, hips rolling with desperate urge for release.

“Kalinda... you have to... you have to... I can’t... please.”

Kalinda let her head fall back as she entered her with two, then three fingers, taking in the sight of Alicia slamming down on them, fucking her hand. This was an image she doubted she would ever forget.

Kalinda’s focus narrowed on making Alicia come, because sex was something she knew, something she controlled, and she needed that strength right now. She needed to see Alicia undone, needed her to crave what she could do to her. Kalinda needed the love she had carried all those years like a curse, the love she couldn’t put into words, to burrow itself under Alicia’s skin, inside her bones, until it dug deep within her heart.

She lifted her head and brought her lips between Alicia’s legs again, latched on her clit and snapped her tongue, twisted the fingers that were inside her with just a hint of nails, just a touch too deep.

Alicia’s body went rigid for a split second, then she screamed and fell forward, her cheek connecting with the headboard, her knuckles white over its edge as she shook and bucked and thrashed, her litany of cries and curses wrapped around one name, a name that had been paid dearly for. _Kalinda._  

She hoped the hotel walls were sound-proof.

Kalinda moved swiftly, pushing herself on both elbows and catching Alicia in her arms as she collapsed. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Kalinda soothed, cradling her, voice hoarse with too many emotions. She wiped her fingers on the sheet and gently brushed Alicia’s sweat-soaked hair off her brow as she shivered with the aftershocks of her climax.

Alicia brought her hand up to clumsily pat the side of Kalinda’s face, sloppy fingers trailing down her cheek. “You,” she murmured looking up at Kalinda through hooded eyes, a faint, awed smile tugging at her lips.

Kalinda buried her face in her hair and tried to remember how to breathe.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leela's story or how Kalinda became who she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an attempt to give Kalinda a back story. Before you start reading you should know that "Tahiri" is not an Indian name. According to forebears.co.uk it is mostly prevalent in Morocco, Afghanistan and Albania. Which is why I decided it must have been Nick's original surname. Kalinda's reaction upon hearing the name "Savarese" suggested it wasn't Nick's real name, and also Nick wouldn't be the kind of guy who let his wife keep her maiden name.
> 
> Also, since most of this story is set in Britain in the nineties, here is a short glossary of terms that may baffle non-UK readers. :-)
> 
> Local Comp: local comprehensive school. Secondary state school for pupils aged between 11 to 16. High school.  
> BNP: British National Party. Extreme Right Wing. Very racist. Think Skinheads.  
> A star: the highest grade you can get in high school.  
> Core subjects: English Maths and Science.  
> GCSE: an exam British pupils take at 16 years old.  
> Jelly: wobbly jello usually served in school canteens.  
> Irn Bru: a popular Scottish fizzy drink. Think bright orange Coke.  
> Asian: in Britain "Asian" is shorthand for people of Indian/Pakistani origin.

The light fades in the hotel room as the sun sets. Kalinda switches on the bedside table lamp, casting a glance at Alicia as she does. She doesn’t wake up. Lana would have jerked awake right away, conditioned by years of training, but Alicia keeps on sleeping with the sound determination of someone for whom danger is remote concept.

Kalinda envies her.

She takes a drink from her water bottle before slipping out of bed. She retrieves her bathrobe that ended up bunched up at the foot of the bed and puts it on, then walks to the window to stare at the city lights outside, at the sparkling traffic moving in and out of Chicago. She should be in one of those cars. Heading out. What if Lemond Bishop’s people have followed her here? What if they’re patiently waiting downstairs in the parking garage, a silencer on their guns?

_You should go now._

And it would be so much easier than spending the night.

_You’re way past ‘easier’, K._

Since when did her inner voice start speaking like Will?

Kalinda hugs herself. She doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want this day to end. She turns away from the window and lets her eyes roam over the various parts of their hotel room, the king-size bed where Alicia is sleeping, the gray modern Bergere armchair with their clothes piled on, the chest of drawers with its plain silver handles, the cream couch where they sat to have breakfast, the sleek pale oak desk in the far corner. She commits each item to memory. She wants to be able to picture this room vividly when she closes her eyes.

_Building your happy place, K?_

_Shut up, William._

She goes to the bathroom to splash some water on her face, removes what’s left of her make-up, runs her fingers through her loose hair. In the mirror, Leela stares back at her.

And Kalinda, for the first time in many, many years, lets her.

~~~

"Make me swing." The little girl hanging upside down from the monkey bars extends both arms towards Leela. At the far end of the nursery's playground, Miss Campbell is busy talking to Cheryl, the dinner lady. Leela accepts the hands waving in front of her, gives them an experimental tug.

Behind them, Miss Campbell's voice goes high-pitched.

The girl grins at Leela, her black braids swaying with the movement, her much darker, tiny brown fingers warm against Leela’s own.

Leela likes her instantly.

Her name is Chandra.

It means Moon.

~~

"You Paki bitch."

Leela's fist flies. Callum Taylor stumbles backwards clutching at his nose.

They've been waiting for the bus outside St Mary's High School for Girls. Leela and Chandra’s parents aren’t Catholic but St Mary has a better reputation and better results than the local comp and they prefer their daughters to be in an all-girls’ school. The girls have been sharing cinder toffee -- leftovers from Bonfire night -- until Callum had crept up behind Chandra and tried to snatch the bag, but her friend had shoved it in her green woolen coat’s pocket before he could pinch it.

“You’re gonna pay for this, you little slut,” Callum threatens, wiping his bloody nose on his school uniform jacket’s sleeve. Callum goes to the Grammar school down the road. He’s a right twat, as Chandra would say.

Leela sneers at him, and Callum nods at his mates who gather up around him. They take a few steps forward and Leela feels Chandra grip her arm.

“Oy, Taylor! You botherin’ my neighbour?” A thick Cockney voice calls out behind them.

Leela smiles, doesn’t turn her head. “Hi Nick,” she says, looking straight at Callum, who, from the look in his eyes, is already wetting his pants. You don’t mess with Nick Tahiri.

“Hey Leela,” Nick drawls, “need help with those wankers?”

“That’s all right. They were just leaving,” Leela says, still holding Callum’s eyes. Callum mutters a curse and turns on his heels, followed shortly by his sheepish-looking friends. Being on Nick’s shit list is the last thing they want.

“Hop on your bus, darling,” Nicks says with a wink as the 482 double-decker stops next to them.

“He likes you,” Chandra says once they’re seated in the bus.

“Who? Callum?”

“No, not Callum, silly, Nick.”

“Nick’s a yob.”

“A yob in shining armour,” Chandra giggles. “What would you do if he tried to kiss you?”

Leela rolls her eyes. “He won’t try. He’s older than me.”

“Just by one year. I see the way he looks at you.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“His step-dad would have a fit if he knew.”

Leela shudders. Nick brags he’s a bad boy who keeps getting into fights. This is how he explains the various cuts and black eyes that regularly appear on him. But the whole neighbourhood can hear the sounds coming from the Tahiri household at night. Kieran Tahiri, Nick’s step father, is built like a bull with a temper to match, increased exponentially by the number of pints he consumes down the pub. Leela is scared of him, and not just because of the BNP stickers on his windows. He’s into all sorts of shady deals. Drugs and guns and whatnot. He’s been arrested several times but never charged.

“There’s nothing to know,” Leela says somberly.

~~

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to kiss someone?” Chandra asks as she brushes Leela’s hair.

Leela shrugs. They’re in Chandra’s bedroom getting ready for her sister’s wedding. They’re both wearing saris, Chandra’s blue and Leela’s yellow. Leela can’t wait to put her jeans back on.

“Maybe you should ask Nick,” Chandra teases.

“I don’t want to kiss Nick,” she counters, looking down at the intricate outer and inner sun mehndi designs her mother applied on her hands earlier this morning.

“Who do you want to kiss, then?”

Leela turns abruptly, topples Chandra onto the bed. “You,” she says, laughing.

“Ow, Leela, cut it out! Girls don’t kiss girls, you know that,” she scolds, but she’s laughing too.

“Why not?” Leela asks, balancing over her.

Chandra looks up at Leela, thinks about it seriously. Chandra thinks seriously about many things and Leela really wants to kiss the crease that appears on her brow whenever she does. “I don’t know. Traditions? Because two women together can’t have babies?”

“But what if they fall in love?”

Chandra lifts a hand to cup Leela’s cheek. “Do you love me, Leela?”

“You know I do.”

Chandra lets her hand drop, shakes her head. “But it’s not the same. We’re like sisters. It’s a different love. Not the kind where you want to kiss the other person.”

Leela lowers her lashes. “But what if I do?” she murmurs.

“CHANDRA! LEELA! You girls better be ready. We’re leaving in five minutes,” Chandra’s father bellows from downstairs.

Fear blooms in their eyes at the same time and the two girls jump apart and scramble off the bed, smoothing down the folds of their saris. “WE’RE COMING PAPA-JI!” Chandra calls out.

They avoid looking at each other as they climb down the stairs.

~~~

They’re in Leela’s bedroom doing their homework, when Chandra brings it up again.

“What if we did it to practise?” she asks, carefully tracing a line in her exercise book with a ruler.

“Practise what?” Leela answers distractedly, in the middle of a particularly challenging algebra equation. She’s good at maths. She’s good across the board, really. Her teachers predict she will be an A-star pupil when the time comes to take her GCSEs. Chandra struggles a little more with the core subjects, but she kicks Leela’s ass in art. Her drawings are exquisite.

“Kissing.”

Leela’s head jerks up. “What?”

Chandra grins. She likes shocking Leela, because Leela doesn’t fluster easily. “I said we could practise kissing. So we won’t make fools of ourselves when the time comes to kiss our husbands.”

Leela puts her pen down, tilts her head. “You’re serious?”

Chandra leaves her chair and goes to sit on Leela’s bed. She pats the empty spot next to her. “Come here. Let’s try.”

Leela moves slowly, her legs like canteen jelly. She sits down on the edge of the bed, facing Chandra, nervous as hell, but determined not to show it.

Chandra flicks her long midnight braid behind her. “Maybe we’ll hate it,” she smiles, curling her fingers around Leela’s.

They don’t hate it.

~~

Leela is coming down from the corner shop with a pack of lentils her mother asked her to go  
and get when she sees Nick sitting on the low wall framing his house’s front yard, smoking weed.

“My day’s suddenly got a whole lot better,” he says, watching her approach.

“Hi Nick.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Sit with me a spell, will you?”

Leela hesitates. Nick has got a reputation. Nick has grown up dangerous. Her parents would disown her on the spot her if they saw her talking to him. And yet, Nick’s always been kind to her, has put the fear of God in all the various bullies who have tried to make her life miserable for not being white enough, not English enough. Something sparks in her belly; the danger Nick embodies thrills her, excites her. She hauls herself up to sit on the wall next to him and Nick grabs her upper arm to steady her. The street is quiet and she’ll only stay five minutes.

“What’s this?” he asks, pointing at the plastic bag she’s holding.

“Lentils, for dhal.”

“I could kill for a plate of dhal,” he sighs, and Leela believes that he could.

She laughs. “Don’t you have any food in your house?”

“My cunt of a step-dad’s gone on a trip, so, no, not at the moment.”

“What about your mum? Doesn’t she eat?”

“She’s on a liquid diet,” Nick says, and Leela doesn’t need him to explain what that means. He grins. “But that’s okay, I’ll get something from the chippy later.”

Leela looks at him. Nick is thin, all wiry muscles and bones. His skin has the pallor of the malnourished, fed on cheap takeaways and junk food. His blue eyes look stretched and feverish from not enough sleep and there’s a yellow bruise fading on his cheekbone. He holds the joint up to her between two fingers. “Want some?”

Leela rolls her eyes. “You know I don’t smoke.”

He laughs, a raucous, unpleasant sound, like he’s got phlegm in his lungs. “You’re such a good girl, Leela.”

It sounds like the insult it probably is.

“Have you stopped going to school?” she asks him.

He takes a long drag from his joint, smirks as he exhales. “I’m going to Street School. Best school there is.”

“How will you get a job?”

“I have a job.”

“What? Dealing weed?”

Nick shrugs. “It pays well.”

She knows he’s lying. Whatever money he makes most likely ends up in his step-dad’s pocket. “Obviously not well enough to get you proper food,” she points out.

Nick pulls back, shifting sideways on the wall and narrowing his eyes at her. “Careful, girl,” he warns.

She holds his eyes, unflinching. “Or what?” she taunts.

“Nobody talks to me like that.”

“Well, I do. Get used to it.”

And Leela is aware how it must look, this tiny Indian girl in her pink fleece squaring up to this street-wise thug.

Nick stares at her for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “Oh, Leela, you’re something, you are.”

Leela jumps down from the wall. “I’ll bring you some dhal if there’s some left,” she says as she starts walking away.

“Nah, keep your Paki food.”

She sticks her tongue out at him over her shoulder. He blows her a kiss. “I love you, Princess.”

Leela smiles all the way home.

~~

“You wouldn’t wear that!” Chandra exclaims.

“I would,” Leela insists.

They’re standing on Southall’s high street’s pavement, looking inside the Russell & Bromley shoe shop window.

“Your parents would kill you.”

“I’m not saying now. When I’m older.”

“What, for your career as a streetwalker in Soho?”

Leela shoves Chandra with a bump of her shoulder. “Piss off.”

“Nobody can pull these off and not be labelled a trollop,” Chandra says firmly, looking at the spiked-heel knee-high black leather boots on display with a mix of repulsion and awe.

“Depends what you wear them with,” Leela says thoughtfully.

Chandra considers this. “You’d have to wear a skirt, wouldn’t go with tracky bottoms… or jeans,” she says, pointing her chin at Leela’s denim-covered legs.

“Well, I’d wear a skirt then.”

“You? Wearing skirts? When you scream bloody murder every time you’re made to wear a sari?”

“‘It’s not the same. And I do wear skirts at school.”

“Because it’s part of our uniform, you don’t have a choice.” Chandra casts another look towards the shop window, mulling things over. “Okay, so you’d wear those boots with a skirt. Long, short?”

“Short enough.”

“But not too short, right? Not ‘let-me-show-you-my-punani’ short.”

Leela rolls her eyes. “Of course not, above the knee, or something.”

“What about the top?”

Leela taps a finger on her lips. “I don’t know. A nice blouse, something well-cut and expensive from Harvey Nichols.”

“Oh, so you’d be going for the luxury call-girl look, then?”

Leela goes to shove her again, but Chandra is quicker and steps sideways at the last moment, catching Leela’s arm as she almost stumbles and linking it with hers, laughing. She lifts an eyebrow at her. “Cleavage?”

Leela shrugs. “Some.”

Chandra looks down at her chest. “Well, your boobs are getting big, might as well flaunt them.”

Leela glances away, freezes her face so she doesn’t blush. “They’re not.”

But Chandra, as usual, sees right through her. “Oh, so you’re going all shy on me now? And you’re telling me you’d be fine wearing those things. Bullshit.”

“As I said, not straight away. When I’m a grown woman.”

“When you’re a grown woman, you’ll have to wear what your husband approves of and there’s no way he will approve of those,” Chandra says, fluttering her fingers at the boots.

“Maybe I won’t get married then.”

Chandra shakes her head, still holding her arm as they start walking down the street. “Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you and I are expected to marry a _nice Indian boy_ ,” she says in an exaggerated British Indian accent.

“Then we’ll leave.”

“And go where?”

Leela shrugs. “I don’t know. America?”

“Our families will never let us leave. You know what happened to Diya.”

“We don’t know what happened to Diya.”

“We can guess.”

Diya was Leela’s pretty cousin who’d agreed to an arranged marriage which went sour very fast. She’d found solace in the arms of a Polish _gora_ , according to a hushed conversation she overheard one of her aunts having with her mother (Leela listened to adults a lot. She knew how to make herself quiet, almost invisible). Diya had been careful but her family had found out eventually. And then she just… disappeared. Her name never mentioned again.

Leela tightens her grip on Chandra’s arm, the world narrowing around her, making it difficult to breathe. Leela’s parents love her but their strict adherence to traditions will always come first. Before her well-being. Before her happiness. And then there’s her brothers, who have begun watching over her like hawks ever since her body began to change, although she doesn’t even wear girly clothes.

She would leave. She knew this with a deep certainty she could feel right inside her bones.

She and Chandra would leave and be free, to a place where Leela could wear all the outrageous boots in the world.

~~

Nick kisses her in the spring on a Saturday. A month or so after her fourteenth birthday. She is coming back from her weekly Bollywood dance class (Leela wanted to do athletics, but it required wearing shorts, so she wasn’t allowed. Her dance teacher turned out to be great fun though, so she didn’t sulk too long) when she runs into Nick as she takes a shortcut through the park. He offers to walk her home. “I won’t come to your doorstep, don’t worry,” he grins, reading her reluctance. They walk past the lake, and he tells her how swans can break a man’s arm with their wings. “Bloody strong fuckers, swans,” as he puts it. He’s got a grimy bandage around his left hand.

“What happened?” she asks him.

He shrugs. “I punched a bloke.”

She knows Kieran is home, so Leela doesn’t buy it. Then it starts to rain, one of those heavy spring showers that has them running for cover inside a red phone box. Once inside, Nick looks down at her and catches her waist. She lets him. Droplets of water are falling from his blond hair and run down his sharp cheekbones. Leela finds him attractive in a broken sort of way. “What kind of name is ‘Tahiri’ anyway?” she asks, because her pulse is racing and she can’t think of anything else to say.

“Fuck knows,” Nick replies before leaning down to kiss her.

His lips are chapped, and his mouth tastes of Irn Bru. It is different from Chandra’s kisses, not as soft, but good still and as deliciously forbidden.

Nick leans his forehead against hers. “When I leave this shithole, I’m taking you with me,” he tells her.

~~

Leela tells Chandra about Nick as they walk back from school.

“You’re playing with fire, Leela,” Chandra warns.

“I was just curious. It won’t happen again.” Leela isn’t sure if that’s true but it seems like the right thing to say.

Chandra scoffs. “Because you think a boy like Nick is going to take no for an answer?”

Leela shoves her hands inside the oversized suede jacket she borrowed from Sandeep - the youngest and least annoying of her three brothers - to her mother’s great distress. _“What have I done to the gods to have a daughter who dresses like a boy? Nobody will want to marry you,_ ” she’d wailed. Leela had kept to herself that that was the plan.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted me to kiss him?” Leela reminds her friend.

“That was ages ago. And I was joking. I never thought you would go ahead and do it.”

“I don’t love him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Whatever.” Chandra quickens her pace and Leela watches her long braid swing across her slim back as she stomps off.

Chandra doesn’t talk to Leela for a week. So, on Monday, Leela corners her in the school’s first floor bathroom during break time.

“Are you jealous?” Leela asks point blank, after making sure they’re the only ones here.

“Why would I be?” Chandra replies, not looking at her.

“Because you act like you are.”

Chandra shakes her head, press on the tap to wash her hands. “No. I’m angry at you for being so careless.”

“Look, Nick hasn’t tried anything since. And if he does, I will tell him I’m not interested." Leela doesn’t say that Nick hasn’t tried anything simply because she hasn’t seen him. She hasn’t exactly gone out of her way to avoid him but...

Chandra rolls her eyes. “And what makes you think he’ll listen?”

“He’s not as bad as you think.”

“Yeah, and you would know that,” Chandra snaps, wiping her hands on the roll towel dispenser.

Leela leans against one of the sinks, bows her head. “I don’t like it when we fight,” she says quietly.

“You should have thought about that before you snogged him,” her friend hisses before heading out.

Anger rises up in Leela’s throat. “He kisses better than you anyway,” she calls out as the bathroom door closes behind Chandra.

~~

“Oy Leela! I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been hiding from me?” Nick asks, catching up with her as she walks towards the bus stop.

“Don’t be silly,” Leela lies.

Nick grabs her arm. “Good, because there’s a phone box just round the corner,” he grins.

Leela stops, shakes his hand off. “Nick, I can’t. If my parents find out…”

“We’ll be careful.”

“No, we won’t.” She looks down at her feet, wanting this conversation to be over. “I’m sorry.” She starts walking again. Chandra was right. Kissing him wasn’t smart.

She hears a loud smack behind her, and swivels round to see Nick holding his right hand. He’s punched the brick wall they were walking along.

“Nick!” She runs back towards him. “What did you do?” Leela sees blood seep from between his fingers. “Show me,” she orders him. Nick holds his hand out and Leela examines his bloody knuckles. “You’re crazy,” she murmurs, shaking her head. She pulls her purple linen scarf off her neck, secretly thrilled a boy would do something so rash for her.

“You’re the one driving me crazy, Leela,” he says, watching her wrap the scarf around his hand.

Leela sighs. “Look, Nick, it can’t happen. If I were ever seen so much as holding hands with an English boy, my brothers would kill me. And then they would kill you.”

“What? You think I can’t take your brothers?”

She looks up at him. “Nick, please… I don’t want any mess.”

Nick chews the inside of his cheek, then nods. “All right. I can wait. But you’ll be eighteen one day, and in this country, it means you won’t owe anybody shit. Then we’ll talk.” He throws a quick look around him and, when he’s satisfied nobody is watching, lifts his uninjured hand to stroke her cheek. “I know what we have, Leela.”

Leela lowers her lashes, doesn’t say anything. Nick really doesn’t get it, but that’s okay. A lot can happen in four years.

~~

Chandra appears at her bedroom door the following Tuesday. “Can I come in?”

Leela drops her science book on her lap and nods, straightening up against her pillow. Chandra approaches slowly, sits on the edge of the bed.

“I miss you,” she says, her eyes cast down, running her fingers over the swirling patterns of Leela’s bright orange bedspread.

“Whose fault is that?” Leela likes being on her own, enjoys the quiet that allows her time to learn and think, but these past couple of weeks she’s felt so acutely lonely, and she resents having been made to feel that way. She’s not going to let Chandra off the hook this easily.

Chandra exhales a sigh that sounds like a sob. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

“You have a funny way how showing it.”

“I wanted to see if I could cope not having you in my life, if I could get used to it.” She shakes her head sadly. “I can’t.”

Leela’s heart swells and pinches; she never could stand seeing Chandra miserable. She pushes her book away and moves to kneel beside her. She’s done being angry.

“You’re never gonna lose me,” Leela tells her, stroking her shiny black hair. “Nick means nothing to me.” This isn’t entirely true but this is what Chandra needs to hear.

Chandra looks up at her with anxious eyes. “It’s not just about Nick.” She grips her hand. “Leela, you and I, we may be British but we’re not really. We can’t be acting like those white girls. Our actions have consequences. They could change our whole lives.”

Leela shakes her head. “My parents would never hurt me.”

“But they could send you away. You could end up back in Jharkhand married to some gross old _Brahmin_ farmer.”

Leela’s heard the stories. She doesn’t know how much is fact or fiction. Honour killings and forced marriages might have been a real threat for women in the past, but Leela wants to believe that nowadays they are mostly scary tales whispered to young Asian girls to keep them in line. For all she knows, Diya has buggered off to rebuild her life in Spain or something.

Leela sits on the edge of the bed next to Chandra, wraps one arm around her, pulling her close. “I talked to Nick. I told him it was too risky. He understands.”

Chandra's eyes go wide. “Does he really?”

Leela strokes the curve of Chandra’s shoulder. “Yeah. I think even Nick realises he could get into a lot of trouble if Aadesh caught wind of this.” Aadesh is Leela’s older brother. A devout, respectful son in front of her parents, but a mean, bigoted, misogynistic pig at heart with a subdued, perpetually anxious wife. Leela goes out of her way to be nice to her, even if deep down, she despises the woman for being such a doormat.

Chandra releases a long breath. “Wow, I did misjudge him. I never thought he would give up on you so easily.”

Leela feels bad for not telling her the whole truth, but what Chandra doesn’t know can’t hurt her. She kisses her cheek, buries her face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

“If I were a boy, I would never give up on you,” Chandra adds, resting her hand on Leela’s knee.

“I know.”

“Does he really kiss better than I do?”

Leela chuckles, squeezes Chandra’s shoulder reassuringly. “No, you silly cow. I was pissed off when I said that.”

“Oh, okay.”

Leela releases Chandra. “Wait here,” she tells her, standing up. She goes to knock on her brothers’ bedroom doors. They’re both out. Then she goes downstairs and finds her mother in the kitchen, making chapatis, which means she won’t leave her cooker for a good while.

“Are you girls doing your homework?” she asks as Leela picks a couple of tangerines from the fruit basket.

“Yes, Mama-ji.”

“We hadn’t seen Chandra in a while. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Leela’s mother turns towards her daughter, one hand on her hip. “Did you two have a fight?”

Leela sighs. She can’t tell her mother Chandra was sick or had the flu. Their families are too well acquainted for any such story to fly.

“We’re okay now,” Leela says, hoping this will be enough of a concession.

Leela’s mother’s eyes sparkle. “Were you two fighting over a boy?”

“Mum!” Leela whines.

“I should hope not. You’re still too young for this sort of thing,” her mother scolds gently, waving the stainless steel tongs she uses to flip her chapatis at Leela. “You and Chandra have been joined at the hip since you were toddlers. True friends are more important than boys, _beti_ , never lose sight of that.”

“I’m not,” Leela mutters, wishing she could tell her mother just how important Chandra has grown to be, knowing she will never, ever be able to.

It is with great relief she watches her mother turn back towards her cooker, as she goes on nattering about yet another family wedding, and how she needs Leela to be here when Mrs. Patel comes to take her measurements for a new outfit.

Leela barely listens because she’s heard it all before and just stares at her mother’s back, at her plain green sari, at her black hair pinned up in a strict bun. She’s a little taller than Leela, slender and willowy, and to Leela’s eyes, at least, stunningly beautiful. She’s also been blessed with a sharp mind and an easy, melodious laugh. And yet her life has been reduced to cooking and cleaning the house, to raising kids and making sure her father’s shirts are neatly ironed. A pretty flower who only sees the sun on celebrations and wedding days. Leela doesn’t want to end up like her, will do anything not to end up like her. Leela wants an exciting life, full of surprises and interesting people. Lately she’s been toying with the idea of becoming a police officer, which probably won’t go down well with her father, considering the number of times the words “medical school” have passed his lips, whenever he’s been given an update on Leela’s grades.

She goes back upstairs, and into her bedroom. Chandra is sprawled on her bed, leafing through her science book.

Leela tosses her a tangerine and lies down on her stomach next to her. They test each other while eating their fruit. They have a biology assessment the following week. Then Leela turns her head to look at Chandra just a little too long.

“Is it…” Chandra begins, with a small nod towards the door.

_Safe?_

“Yeah,” Leela breathes.

And before Leela has time to process what is happening, they are in each other’s arms, kissing fiercely.

“You taste good,” Chandra whispers against her lips.

“It’s the tangerine,” Leela smiles.

“No. It’s you.”

They are no longer ‘practising’ for potential husbands and they both know it. Their hands have begun to roam, learning the curves of each other’s body over their clothing. They always stop when things become too heated, but it becomes increasingly harder to do so.

Leela knows she wants more and it scares her. Girls aren’t supposed to want girls in that way. And she’s confused by the fact that when she makes herself feel good at night, she thinks about Chandra most of the times, but sometimes, she thinks about Nick too.

~~

“Look, you’re up in the sky,” Leela tells Chandra, looking out through the small opening in their tent. They’re on a geology school trip in the Peak District. Leela still can’t believe their parents let them go, but they did. A small miracle.

Chandra laughs, arranging her sleeping bag on her inflatable mattress. “Am I round and fat?”

Leela shakes her head, smiling. “You’re bright and beautiful,” she replies, still staring outside, breathing in the night scents of trees and other plants.

Leela feels the warmth of Chandra’s breasts on her back through their t-shirts as her friend leans against her to peer over her shoulder. They both admire the full moon together for a while, then Leela turns her head to softly kiss the corner of Chandra’s lips. Chandra lifts her hand to tuck a strand of Leela’s hair behind her ear. “Close the flap,” she says quietly.

Leela does.

They do not just kiss that night. Leela’s eager mouth and trembling hands demand more and Chandra doesn’t stop her.

“You’re my sun,” Chandra whispers, her lips against Leela’s naked shoulder. After.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS:  
> again to [orangesandlemons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesandlemons/) for being such a wonderful beta.
> 
> MORE NOTES:  
> please don't hesitate to let me know what you thought of this back story I concocted for Kalinda. I will welcome any criticism, so if some things didn't work for you, feel free to say so. 
> 
> This chapter is in fact much longer, but because of its length, I had to cut it in half. Which means chapter 4 should be up very soon. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Leela became Kalinda...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this is where things get dark...
> 
> UK/US glossary:  
> Year 11 = 10th grade.  
> Balaclava = ski-mask. 
> 
> As ever, my deepest thanks to [orangesandlemons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesandlemons/) for the beta.

“Do you think it shows?” Chandra asks her a few days later in the school’s library.

Leela lifts her eyes from her chemistry book. “What?”

“That we… you know,” Chandra says, lowering her eyes and flipping a page of the Keats biography she’s obviously not reading.

“Did you know that Lisa Kessler is no longer a virgin?” Leela says, nodding towards a blonde girl three tables further.

“What? How do you know?”

“How come you don’t?” Leela leans closer over the library’s wide oak table. “I guess it didn’t show,” she whispers with a smirk.

Chandra shakes her head, smiling. “Okay, point taken. Now spill. I know Lisa was going out with Luke Harper but I thought they broke up...”

“No.”

“No, it’s not Luke?”

“No, I’m not telling you.”

“Aw, come on, Leela.”

“People talk and I listen. You wanna know, you do the same.”

“Then talk and I’ll listen.”

Leela’s lips curve. “You know me. Not much of a talker.”

~~

Chandra’s house is uncharacteristically quiet. Her parents and siblings have gone to Birmingham to visit relatives for the day and Chandra insisted she couldn’t tag along because she has this very important English essay to finish - which is actually true. Chandra has never given her parents any reasons not to trust her, so this was an easy sell. Leela had rung her doorbell not ten minutes after their car had disappeared round the bend. To their credit, both girls had managed to work for a full hour, mostly due to anxiety at what is happening between them, mixed with an irrational fear that Chandra’s parents would realise they had forgotten something and double back. But then their fingers had brushed each other’s as they reached for the same book and Chandra had held Leela’s eyes and that was that.

“I have something for you,” Chandra says, trailing her fingers down Leela’s arm.

“Yeah?” They’re naked under the sheets, spooning each other, the tip of Leela’s nose fitting perfectly in the groove behind Chandra’s ear.

Chandra moves to lean over the side of the bed and rummages in her discarded pile of clothing. She sits up and puts a small black box in Leela’s hand.

Leela sits up as well, lifts an eyebrow. “For me?”

“Oh, wait, no. It’s for that other girl I get naked with,” Chandra says, pretending to snatch the box back.

Leela bats her hand away, laughing, and opens the box. “Oh, Chandra…” she exhales, lifting the silver necklace with its delicate little horseshoe charm dangling on its end.

“I saw it when we took my cousins to Camden Market, and it reminded me that every day, I wake up and feel so lucky you’re in my life.” Chandra explains. She holds out her hand and Leela, her throat tight, lets the necklace fall in Chandra’s palm. Her friend moves behind her to clasp it around her neck.

“I can’t hold your hand or kiss you in public, and I can’t shout to the world how much you mean to me,” Chandra says, wrapping her arms around Leela from behind. “But I can give you this,” she presses her left palm over the necklace, fingertips fanning over Leela’s collarbone, “so whenever you touch it, you’ll be reminded how much I love you, even if I can’t show you.” Chandra plants a soft kiss on Leela’s bare shoulder. “Also, Hallmark called and they want to hire me to write cards,” she finishes with a self-deprecating grin.

Leela is incredibly moved but at a loss what to say. So she turns in Chandra’s arms to kiss her long and deep because she’s finding out she’s much better at saying things with her body than with words.

She lowers Chandra back down onto the bed, trails her fingertips down her brown cheek, the necklace swaying gently between them. “Show me now,” she whispers.

~~

Chandra and Leela turn sixteen. For the outside world they are just two serious Asian girls, more interested in their studies than in boys or other frivolous activities. They make a point of not hanging out too much with each other at school, which is a fairly easy thing to do, since they end up in different classes for their year Eleven. They only allow themselves to be themselves in their respective bedrooms, on the too-rare occasions their families are outside the house.

There are a few exceptions, like this one time they stayed at school late for a GCSE revision evening class and ended up being the last one to leave. Leela had caught Chandra’s arm as they walked past the girls’ toilets and had pulled her inside. Chandra had bit the edge of Leela’s hand over her mouth as she tossed her head against the white plywood panel of the cubicle. “Shhh… honey, you gotta be quiet,” Leela had breathed urgently in her ear, trapping Chandra’s body more firmly against the partition, the smell of bleach sharp in their noses.

Or the day Chandra had dragged Leela to see _Titanic_ , despite Leela’s protests that it was going to be a ‘rubbish romantic movie’. They’d sat on the last row, in the darkest corner of the movie theatre. “I want to draw you like this,” Chandra had whispered in the crook of Leela’s ear, sneaking a hand under the black corduroy jacket covering Leela’s lap to unbutton her jeans, as on the screen, Jack’s fingertip rubbed the contour of Rose’s breast on his drawing pad. Leela was glad the iceberg crashed against the damn ship just in time to cover her sharp, bit-out gasp.

But they are careful, very careful. They know what’s at stake.

Leela grows restless as the months go by. She begins sneaking out of her house at night, knowing by heart which floorboards will creak under her feet, as she silently makes her way down the stairs and goes out through the kitchen’s back door.

She doesn’t go anywhere in particular, just walks around the block, simply enjoying the sense of freedom her nocturnal wanderings bring her.

She meets Nick during one of those nights. They haven’t spoken in months and she’s a little apprehensive when she recognizes his familiar figure in the distance.

Nick stops dead in his tracks when he spots her. “Leela? What are you doing here?” He sounds remarkably sober. Leela pretty much expected to find him drunk or high or both.

“Just walking,” she replies evasively.

“It’s not safe to be out at a time like this for a girl like you,” he scolds. It must be close to 2 am.

“I can take care of myself,” she tells him, lifting her chin defiantly.

Nick laughs, delighted. “Are you being a bad girl?”

“Not particularly.”

He fishes out a can of spray paint out of his pocket, shakes it so Leela can hear the characteristic sound of the little metal bead rolling around inside. “Do you want to be?”

Leela stares at the can. “What are you up to, Nick?”

He takes her hand, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She protests out of pure form, and Nick reassures her they’re not going far. Inside her head, Chandra frowns at her, but Leela is curious, and besides, she feels safe with Nick even if she knows she shouldn’t.

Fifteen minutes later they’re standing on the well-manicured lawn bordering Hallcroft College, the twelve-grand-a-year public school where all the upper-class kids go. Nick leads Leela towards the west side of the building, throws a quick glance around him, shakes his spray can with determination, and, after a wink at Leela over his shoulder, starts tagging the pristine hamstone wall.

“ _Entitled_ is spelled with an ‘e’, not an ‘a’,” she tells him, as Nick takes a step back to admire his handiwork. In this case, a big neon-green ‘SUCK MY DICK ANTITLED PRICKS’

“Shit,” Nick curses. He goes to correct his mistake and between rubbing lines of not-quite-dry paint with his denim jacket’s sleeve and further spraying, manages to turn the ‘A’ into an ‘E’. It looks a bit messy, but considering the level of artistic quality of Nick’s piece it doesn’t really matter.

Leela nods in approval and Nick hands her the can. “Your turn.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Oh, come on, Leela! How many chances will you have to do this?”

“I don’t know what to write.”

“Anything. Something that will piss those posh twats off.”

Leela creases her brow, thinks about it while accepting the can. She comes closer to the wall, fidgets for a few seconds, fingernails drumming on the spray paint container, then writes “WE’RE WATCHING YOU.”

Nick shoots her a puzzled look.

“Now they won’t only be insulted, they’ll be scared too,” she explains, handing him back the can.

Nick stares at her like she’s the birthday gift he never suspected existed. His lips curve into a slow, wolfish smile. “You’re amaz --” The sound of a police siren in the distance cuts him short. Nick snatches her hand and they start running.

Leela’s grin is wide and free as she follows him down the daedalus of narrow streets Nick knows like the back of his hand. She’s never felt more alive.

They stop to catch their breath under the darkened porch of the old post office. Nick presses her up against the boarded-up door and she laughs as he kisses her, gasps when his hands close on her breasts.

“God, I want to fuck you,” he pants against her cheek, his hips pushing forward.

Leela pulls back, catches his wandering hands. “Nick...” she shakes her head.

Nick’s jaw clenches and something feral bursts forth in his eyes. Leela starts to panic, what if he doesn’t let her go?

“Nick, please…” she repeats, feeling his fingers tighten painfully around hers. He is so much stronger than she is. Leela doesn’t think she will be able to fight him off if he doesn’t listen to her. Why did she go to those stupid dance classes? She should have picked a martial art instead. Maybe she could have convinced her parents that learning to defend herself was a useful skill to have to preserve her honour, just in case. Just in case something like this happened.

But before she has time to worry any longer, Nick blinks and his whole body shudders. He lets go of her hands abruptly and steps back from under the porch, turning away from her.

“I’m sorry,” Leela says in a rush. She really is. She liked having him touch her, liked how hard he got against her belly, liked the warmth that spread low between her legs when he did. Not for the first time, Leela wishes she weren’t who she is.

“Go. Now,” he says with his back still to her, his voice tense, cutting like a knife’s edge.

 _You’re playing with fire, Leela_ , Chandra’s voice reminds her, as she hurries down the street.

Nick is dangerous, she’d known this for a long time, has heard the stories. How he’d beaten up Brandon Young within an inch of his life over football tickets, or how he’d set fire to a cop’s car on Boxing Day, or how he was responsible for the long scar on Carl Blackmoor’s cheek. Yes, Nick is dangerous. But she hadn’t fully accepted how true that was until tonight.

And yet and yet and yet…

~~

“It’s going to be time soon to find this one a husband,” Aadesh says, nodding towards Leela, stabbing at a piece of lamb in his plate.

“I pity the poor chap who gets her,” Dheeraj, her other brother, sniggers between a mouthful of green peas.

Leela’s upper lip curves up at the corner in a sneer, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows better than to take the bait.

“Now, be nice to your sister, Dhee,” her mother scolds.

Leela’s father grunts. “She’s still young,” he says, with a quick glance at his daughter.

“How old was mother when you married her?” Aadesh asks.

“We were promised to one another when she was twelve and I fourteen, but we didn’t live together until much later. Things were different back then,” her father replies, after taking a sip from his beer.

“Did you love each other?” Leela asks.

Leela’s mother smiles at her father. “We learnt to.”

Leela doesn’t think it’s true. Granted, her parents like each other, get on rather well together. But love? She’s never seen the kind of passion between them she reads in books or sees in movies. The kind of fire that exists between her and Chandra or, to a lesser extent, between her and Nick.

“I have to finish my studies first,” Leela ventures, tracing the edge of her naan bread with her index finger.

“True, she can’t be distracted while she’s studying to be a doctor,” her father agrees.

“She doesn’t want to be a doctor, dad. Leela wants to be a cop,” Sandeep says with a wide grin in her direction.

Leela shoots him a glare from beneath her eyelashes. So much for trusting him with this.

“Nonsense. This is no job for a woman,” her father replies sternly.

“Why would you want to join the police, _beti?"_  her mother asks, sounding genuinely curious.

Leela shrugs, “I don’t know. To help people?” _And because they chase criminals and drive fast, all sirens blaring and are respected and are their own person_...

“You’ll help many more people as a doctor,” her father says, his tone making it clear this won’t be up for discussion.

Leela doesn’t argue, feels the roof of their dining room pressing down upon her. She catches Aadesh looking at her, his smile ugly, like he’s taking pleasure in watching the walls close in around her, trapping her. Under the table, her right leg twitches.

She wants to run.

~~

They fell asleep.

Chandra and Leela had been so careful, until the day they weren’t.

Because they fell asleep.

Her bedroom door flying open. Her mother’s voice, loud and urgent, “Leela, have you seen --”. A sharp intake of breath. A curse in Hindi quickly swallowed.

Then nothing. No more words. Just horror and disbelief in her mother‘s eyes as she stares at her daughter. Her naked daughter. Limbs entangled under the thin blue sheet with her equally naked best friend.

Both girls sit up hurriedly, both tugging at the sheet to cover their bodies as best as they can. Not that it matters.

Leela stares up at her mother, mute. What can she say? Everything is free-falling around her.

Her mother turns her head, shouts anxiously for her father. Leela hears heavy footsteps climb up the stairs, her heart sinking. She’d hoped for a split second that her mum would take her side, protect her, keep her secret, but the woman is too frazzled, too shocked, and years of deferring to her husband have taken precedence.

Her mother steps aside to let her father through the doorway. His eyes widen, confusion quickly giving way to anger, his big hands closing into fists. He barks at Chandra to get dressed and her friend, her lover, shaking like a leaf, hurries to do so. Her hand brushes Leela’s thigh as she extricates herself from the bed. Leela doesn’t know it yet, but this is the last time Chandra will ever touch her.

Chandra leaves and her parents close the door on her. There is a terrifying finality in the look they shoot her before they do.

She’s dead to them.

Leela bursts into tears.

~~

Leela paces in her room. Several hours have gone by. Earlier, there had been the sound of a key being jammed into the keyhole and turned, effectively locking her in. Leela didn’t even know her parents had a key for her bedroom door, always assumed it had been lost.

She stops in front of the sash window, opens it as far as it goes, which is still not enough for her to slip through. And even if she could, it would still be too high to jump.

She takes a deep breath in.

_Don’t panic._

But it’s easier said than done. Diya’s pretty face floats in front of her eyes.

_What did they do to you? Will they do the same to us?_

What’s the worst that could happen? If they sent her back to India, Leela would escape. And if they kept her here, they couldn’t lock her up forever. Whatever her family decided, she would always find her way back to Chandra. Nothing could keep them apart.

She blows air through her mouth, feels a little better.

She should have known this day would come, that her parents would eventually find out how different she is. Yes, it is painful for all of them, and she feels especially bad for her mother, whom she loves dearly, but Leela can’t change who she is.

And who is she? Leela isn’t entirely sure, but she knows she isn’t a _Good Indian Girl_ , destined to breed and follow meekly in her husband’s footsteps.

Through the window she catches a glimpse of a familiar figure slouching up the street. Nick.

Leela draws a breath to shout, then thinks better of it. Her eyes quickly scans her bedroom, lands on the Buddha brass paperweight on her desk. She hurries to scribble a note on a piece of paper, wraps it around the paperweight, ties it with an elastic band and goes back to the window to fling it with as much force as she can in Nick’s direction.

It falls short, landing on the pavement in front of her house. Nick is on the other side of the street, he isn’t going to… but the noise must have been enough, because Leela sees him lift his head. He catches sight of her at her bedroom window. Leela waves madly, pointing at the place where the paperweight landed. Nick frowns, crosses the street, and, spotting the object, goes to retrieve it. Leela watches him as he unrolls the piece of paper and reads.

She’s just written a few words in a hurried scrawl: _“Locked in. Need help.”_

~~

“Hold on, darling, hold on, we’re almost there.” Nick opens the passenger door, helps her out of the car. Everything is swimming in front of Leela’s eyes, but she recognizes the Ealing hospital’s A&E entrance. A few feet away, Dave, one of Nick’s mate shouts at an ambulance driver to fuck off, after probably being told they couldn’t park here.

“Listen Leela, don’t give your real name. Nobody must know who you are, you hear me?” Nick whispers urgently, as he walks her towards the door. “They’ll get you patched up and then I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

Safe. Nothing will ever be safe ever again. But she tries to nod, throws up on Nick’s black Doc Martens instead. She can feel blood running down her neck.

Leela just has time to see the nurse at the reception desk look up at them in alarm before passing out again.

~~

Nick is by her bedside when she wakes up. It’s dark outside and Leela has no idea what time or what day it is. Nick tells her she has a concussion and a gash on her head that needed twenty stitches.

“Can you walk? Those bloody doctors called the pigs, I gave them fake names but it won’t be long before they find out I told them fibs.”

Leela’s thoughts are muddled, her head pounding, she knows something terrible happened but can’t remember exactly what. She lifts a hand to cautiously touch the thick bandage wrapped around her head.

“What…” her voice is hoarse. She licks her dry lips and swallows before she can continue, “what am I doing here?”

Nick stares at her. “You don’t remember?”

Leela starts to shake her head, regrets it immediately as pain shoots out inside her skull.

Nick runs a hand through his hair. He looks exhausted. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t.” He casts a quick glance over her shoulder. “We gotta go,” he says, unhooking her IV bag from its stand. Leela notices the needle inserted in her arm then.

There’s something in Nick’s body language that conveys the urgency of the situation and Leela is too confused to object. He gives her the IV bag to hold and helps her out of bed, but Leela feels her knees buckle as she tries to stand, nausea hitting her like a slap.

“Hold on, love,” Nick lifts her in his arms like she weighs nothing and carries her to a wheelchair by the door. Leela wonders briefly if Nick brought it here, then decides her head hurts too much for it to matter. She’s just glad she doesn’t have to walk.

~~~

Leela drifts in and out of sleep over the next few days. She’s aware she’s in a bed. The place smells unfamiliar, so she knows it isn’t her own bed before even opening her eyes the first time. Nick and an elderly woman are taking turns giving her water and too-salty soup to drink. They also push crumbly little pills in her mouth; aspirin she thinks. Which is good because her head hurts a lot.

When she eventually achieves full consciousness, dawn is just rising. She takes in her surroundings: a small shabby bedroom, which must have once been a kid’s room judging by the faded racing cars and Man-U footballer stickers on the closet door. It looks like it’s being used as a work room now. There is a sewing machine on a folding camping table with a small pile of clothing on a chair next to it and a mannequin in the corner.

Leela sits up cautiously and although her head still hurts, it’s now manageable. She remembers being helped to a tiny blue bathroom down the corridor by the old woman a few times, so she gets to her feet and unsteadily makes her way there.

After she empties her bladder and washes her hands, she catches her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She still has a bandage wrapped around her head but it doesn’t seem as thick or as elaborate as the one she felt under her fingers at the hospital. Her face is ashen, her eyes sunken with dark circles under them. There is a scabbed-over wound on her lip. Leela doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a pitiful reflection of herself. Then her gaze drops to her necklace.

_Chandra._

Memories burst to the surface like fresh stigmatas.

She remembers.

The nightmare. The night her whole world collapsed.

She grips the edge of the sink, knuckles white with the pressure, struggles for breath as horrific fragments embed their poisonous shrapnel inside her mind.

Jerking awake on the cement floor of an abandoned warehouse. (She knows the place, it’s the building adjacent to the old paper factory on Talbot Street. She once went to explore its dusty depths with Chandra and Sandeep as children. Sandeep had insisted she hold his hand the whole time -- more to reassure himself than to protect her, she’d suspected. They’d said the place was haunted.)

Fog inside her head (they must have drugged her, Sandeep had brought her an orange juice in her room earlier, without a word, his eyes red like he’d been crying).

Being pulled up to her knees by Aadesh, his hand crushing her wrists. The liquid ice of fear rushing through her veins.

A group of men standing a few yards away. Leela knows most of them. Cousins and uncles and neighbours, people she’s known since she was a child. Men who’d given her sweets and pastries at weddings and birthdays, men who’d carried her on their shoulders on Diwali, men she’d danced with, men who had once smiled at her.

They’re not smiling now.

Her father among them. Leela calls out to him, but his eyes glide over her like she isn’t there.

“Shut your mouth.” Aadesh’s voice, a growl behind her.

The crowd of men parting. Chandra standing there, in her lavender nightshirt, held upright by her uncle and father. Her eyes glazed. They must have drugged her too.

Aadesh crouching behind her, whispering in Leela’s ear that they’re abominations, that they brought shame and dishonour on their families, that they need to be punished, his short nails biting the flesh of her arms.

Chandra’s father roughly pulling on the collar of his daughter’s shirt to expose her neck. A straight razor glinting in his hand.

And then...

then…

he...

Leela screams, or at least she thinks she does, or maybe Chandra does, or maybe they both do. Aadesh slaps her hard, and Leela tastes blood inside her mouth. She tries to look away but Aadesh won’t let her, grips her jaw between unyielding fingers, forces her to watch, spitting insults in her ear.

Tears blur her vision, but she still sees too much… too much.

Blood, so much blood, soaking the front of Chandra’s shirt.

_Nononononononono_

Leela fights against her brother’s hold, a huge, all-encompassing rage blazing like a lit powder trail from the pit of her belly to her throat to her eyes. She curses in English, curses in Hindi, swears she will kill them all until Aadesh smacks his sweaty hand against her mouth to silence her.

“Don’t be so impatient, little sister, your turn will come soon enough,” he hisses in her ear, tightening his grip on her wrists.

Then gunshots. Dark shadows running in from several corners of the warehouse. The group of Asian men scattering. Behind her, Aadesh suddenly releases her wrists.

Chandra collapsing as her uncle and father let go of her.

Before they run.

Leela screams again, rushes forward and falls to her knees by Chandra’s side, gather her in her arms, calling her name. Chandra’s mouth open and close helplessly as she chokes on her own blood, the soulful brown eyes, which once held so much love and joy, now full of terror. Leela presses her fingers to the wound, a steady, horrified sound rising in her throat, all the prayers she learnt as a child colliding in her head.

But no gods are listening and the light dims out from Chandra’s eyes as her mouth stops moving and her body stills.

Nick appears from behind a broken crate. A balaclava hides his face, but Leela recognizes his faded army jacket. The one with the Union Jack on the breast pocket. He’s got two guns in his hands.

Leela closes Chandra’s eyes with trembling fingertips, then gently lays her body down on the floor to stands up. Her whole face feels stiff, hard as stone.

“Give me a gun,” she orders Nick.

Nick shoves his balaclava up, runs the back of his hand over his mouth. “Leela… the coppers are going to be here any minute, we need to leg it...”

“Give me a fucking gun,” she repeats, her voice like a steel trap.

Nick hold her eyes for a second, then looks down at Chandra’s body on the floor, at the pool of blood that nearly reaches his shoes, a twitch in his cheek. Without further words, he hands her one of his guns. Nick understands vengeance.

Leela runs outside the building as tyres screech and a handful of cars pull up from the curb and disappear down the street into the night. She spots Aadesh’s white BMW a few yards away. The engine is just starting and Leela races towards the car. She wrenches the driver’s door open and points the gun at her brother, her breath coming harshly through her nose. Her hand is shaking and the gun’s grip is too big, so Leela uses both hands to steady her aim.

Aadesh snaps his head around to look up at his sister in surprise. Next to him her father fumbles with the door handle. “Leela! Stop this foolishness immediately!” he commands.

Aadesh recovers quickly.“This won’t bring your girlfriend back, you know?” he smirks, obviously convinced she doesn’t have it in her to shoot her own brother.

He always was an idiot.

Leela’s hands no longer shake. She aims at his crotch and pulls the trigger.

The recoil takes her by surprise. Leela loses her balance and falls backward as Aadesh howls in agony. That’s when she notices her father is no longer in the car. Leela’s eyes scan the dark street anxiously as she gets back up.

“Leela! Watch out!” Nick’s voice shouts behind her.

There’s a brief, intense pain at the back of her head.

Everything goes black.

~~~

Nick finds Leela catatonic, curled up on the bathroom floor. He carries her back to her bed. He talks to her, but his words make no sense. All she sees is Chandra dying, again and again, the cut on her throat, the blood, everywhere, everywhere...

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS: to [orangesandlemons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesandlemons/) for being such a brilliant beta and for helping with the characterization and various plot bunnies. This story wouldn't be what it is without her.
> 
> NOTES: "Graveyard Shifts" wasn't really supposed to have a sequel, then "Huis Clos" happened, which was partly inspired by the episode of Masters of Sex - "Fight", where the characters spend the day in a hotel room and where sex is used as a way to peel away all the layers of unsaid things between them (Okay, I also wanted these two to have great sex, eh). And once I finished that, I realised I didn't really want to let this Alicia and this Kalinda go, so I started writing "Sun", mostly because I wanted to try my hand at writing a Kalinda POV and wanted to tackle her back story. And here we are!
> 
> Alicia telling Kalinda that Will said "I love you" without meaning it is a reference to 3X04.


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